a storm of a girl
by mirajens
Summary: Pretty girls don't drink alone. —Gruvia
1. la doleur exquise

**Disclaimer:** Fairy Tail belongs to Hiro Mashima

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><p><strong>i ― la doleur exquise<strong>

by _mirajens_

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He saw her haunt this bar on an almost nightly basis.

As a regular patron of Fairy Tail himself, Gray Fullbuster had certainly seen his fair share of women who came in all shapes and colors and sizes. Some of them were frequenters of his bed, and many he enjoyed the companionship outside the bedroom all the same. He knew how to operate around these girls like the back of his hand but somehow, there was a rift between him and this beautiful stranger with her waterfall of glorious hair, deep ocean eyes, curves like an hourglass and an aura as blue as her garb. In all actuality, he felt like a fucking pussy; watching her from afar as she drowned a bevy of tequila shots and laughed too loudly (although insincerely) at the half-assed jokes of whichever brave guy occupied the seat in front of her. Natsu goaded him, preaching what Gray already knew ("Fuck's sake, just go talk to her already!") but Gray wasn't so bold to think he had any real chance to impress this girl who already seemed too jaded.

So he just watched her.

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That didn't last long, because the one moment he took her eyes off her, she seemed to appear right in front of him with two questionable drinks in her dainty grasp and a smile too big to be real on her lips. She took up the seat opposite his, the one Natsu just vacated, and placed one of the short glasses before him.

"Drink," she commanded him, a leer on her face. It made Gray uneasy.

"What's this, one of those flowery shots bartenders reserves for girls?" he retorted, because he felt particularly nasty that night and he couldn't find himself to give a shit, not even for this pretty girl with the sad eyes.

Her laugh was loud like the last one, and it grated on his nerves. "You're funny." She concluded. Then, "It's a blowjob. You don't use hands to drink it."

Gray scoffed because it was better than blushing. "Yeah, like I'd intentionally put a blowjob in my mouth." He said in good humor. "I'm Gray."

"Gray-sama," she tested the name and on her lips it sounded like sin and adventure. Gray swallowed hard. "I'm Juvia." She responded with a toss of her long hair. "You've been watching Juvia. And not just tonight."

He imagined she would be mad about this, but there was so much hilarity in her eyes that Gray managed to swallow past the nerves.

"Something wrong with watching a babe who apparently speaks in third person?" with a surge of bravado, he downed the brown muck, whipped cream and all. He did use his hands, and this earned a pout from her. He winced. That has got to be the shittiest thing he helped down his throat. He told her this, prompting another laugh out of her.

"You stare at Juvia all night long and you never talk to her. Why is that?" her head cocked to the side in a manner Gray found equal parts annoying and endearing.

Gray shrugged; a careless movement of his shoulders. "You seem too busy fake laughing at the other douche bags who try to entertain you.

"At least they have the _cojones_ to talk to Juvia, right?"

This time, Gray did blush. "Well, shit. You sure know how to go for the balls."

"That's not the only thing Juvia knows." She told him, a devious smirk on her lips.

She downed her shot manfully, in a comical way where she bent over the tiny glass and picked it up with her lips before upending it down her throat. She grabbed her clutch and rose, dragging down the hem of her dangerously short dress. "This was fun." She decided, smiling a smile that chased Gray's foolish heart to a gallop. "See you again?"

"Yeah." As she walked away, Gray watched the curve of her ass before calling out, "Thanks for the blowjob!"

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He thought he saw her around uni, but he couldn't be sure.

There were times he caught long, blue hair in his periphery, and he wondered if it really was her or if his brain was making him see things. He told himself it was Levy or Wendy or even Jellal, but he knew that shade of blue was Juvia's alone. He would know; he spent a lot of time looking at her. Maybe he'd developed some strange addiction to the pretty, wild girl.

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He chanced upon her again as he was about to enter Fairy Tail and she was about to get kicked out of it.

The bouncer, Elfman, was with her, along with the bartender, Mirajane, and they were in the process of placating an obviously smashed Juvia. Juvia, in her short, tight Versace was making a fuss about wanting to stay, and truthfully, it was enough to give Gray second-hand embarrassment.

In the fashion of white knights, Gray sauntered over to the trio and helped Juvia to her feet. "It's fine, Mira. I'll handle this."

There was a grateful and tired smile on Mirajane's face before the two employees went back inside.

"Honestly," Gray muttered as he hefted the girl's weight onto his shoulders. "I don't even know you and you're already too damn troublesome."

"Why don't you just leave Juvia like everybody does?" she snarled, her words slurred and forced.

"Stop whining." He bit out, helping her into his car, not gently. He'd never been the gentle type. Gray got behind the wheel and drove out the parking lot. He was supposed to meet Natsu and Lucy, but he couldn't leave behind this pathetic girl. And besides, Natsu and Lucy had been pestering him forever to settle down with a girl. If they found out he took a girl home, maybe they'd ease up on setting him up with disasters.

For a while, they sat in mute, the whirring of his old car's engine the only sounds between them.

"Where do you live?" He asked once they were out in the main road.

"Juvia does not want to go home. Bora-san is waiting for her there, and she does not want to see him."The girl replied as she crossed her arms, not unlike a child.

"Well, fuck." Gray hissed, his foot easing down on the brakes. "Where do I take you? You could stand to make this easier, seeing that I'm already doing you a favor." This was exactly why he stayed away from girls. Too fucking messy and mysterious when life was easier than they made it out to be.

"I don't know. Juvia has nowhere else to go." She said, sounding defeated. Gray nearly blanched. He could smell a guilt trip a mile away, but it didn't lessen the effect.

In his nervous manner, he ran his hand through his hair. "Jesus. Fine. You can crash at my place. Just no crying and shit, you understand?" At her eager nod and quick smile, he cursed again. Fucking hell. He was setting himself up for trouble and he knew it.

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In his apartment, hell was about to break lose.

Juvia came barreling in, charmed out of her pants with the shitty, disorganized apartment and it has Gray wondering if she was faking the whole thing. It looks like any other college boy's apartment with dirty dishes in the sink, assorted bottles and food containers littering the "dining table" and clothes strewn everywhere. It was a fucking mess.

When she stripped off her dress and jumped on his bed to sink under the covers, Gray said in a flat tone, "Make yourself at home."

She smiled, and Gray thought it was the first time he'd seen her look so sincere.

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He made a point to wash the dishes and tidy up some. His ma would have been horrified to know that her son was entertaining a guest (a girl, no less) in such deplorable situations. Then his father would have hit him at the back of the head and told him not to be such a fucking slob.

"Where is the alcohol stored?" he heard his guest ask. Gray turned away from the dishes and aimed at her a withering glare, but his façade faltered when he saw she was bent over, still half-naked, still scorching hot.

"No more alcohol for you." Gray said, his throat feeling dry. "You're still too hammered, and I don't want anyone dying of alcohol poisoning in my house, thanks."

Juvia removed her head from inside the refrigerator and she grinned at him. "Not for Juvia, silly." She closed the refrigerator and moved onto his underwear cabinet.

He blanched at the thought of some stranger pawing through his underwear, so he marched up to her and grabbed her by the hand to halt her explorations. "No." was all he said, pinning her with a firm look.

Her eyes were on his lips, and she wondered what he tasted like. She seemed to be robbed of speech and lost in fantasy. They share too close a stance, and he swore he could feel her hear and hear every beat of her heart.

He let her go and backed away. She took the bottle of tequila she had unearthed and regained composure. She swore to herself no more men would make a fool out of her.

"Gray-sama needs a drink. He's being too motherly tonight." Her eyes roved his body suggestively. "Juvia doesn't need a mother right now."

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By six am, they were smashed.

Like her, he was down to his underwear. They were sprawled haphazardly on his bed, half in, half out in the duvet that smelled like pine cones and him. It seemed they shed their dignity along with their clothes. She was a sloppy drunk— this he already knew, and he was a talkative one— this she cherished. They played little games that get nowhere, but it was fun and a much needed reprieve from the lives they tried to run away from. Things did not get serious until he poured the tenth shot. She was back to crying and bemoaning her life and Gray listened with half an ear until she allowed something that caught his attention.

"Juvia found her boyfriend going down on another woman."

Gray's eyes flickered to the girl, then back to the shot in his hand. "Goddammit." He hissed under his breath. "Why do chicks always go for assholes, then whine when they get hurt?"

She shrugged, uncaring of his scolding. "Nobody ever loves Juvia. Not really."

Gray pushed the shot glass in her hands and told her to drink. He didn't know how to deal with all this emotional bullshit.

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They have sex that one time.

They were drunk. That enough told the whole story. She was lonely again, and he wondered if she ever was otherwise and so she woke him in the middle of the night as they tried to sleep off the copious amount of alcohol they just felt like indulging in that night. She crawled on top of him until she was straddling his waist and it was easy enough to discard underwear and self-preservation. They move effortlessly but there was a clumsiness to it in the way of the inebriated. They knew exactly what the other needed and they gave it with gusto.

It was dark, and there was nothing but roaming hands, loud moans and sharp breaths. He couldn't see the girl who danced above him like a thunderstorm, but he swore he knew there were tears drying on her cheeks.

In the morning, they talked nothing of it.

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Weeks passed but Juvia didn't. She seemed intent of overstaying her welcome, and somewhere along the way, Gray stopped seeing her a burden and began to look at her as a constant. She was there when he came home from work, watching reruns of Full House on his beat up TV and eating the popcorn he left for her. Sometimes she watched him do homework. Sometimes he was over at her apartment before he could ask himself what the fuck he was doing there with her. Sometimes she intruded on his showers before he yelled at her to get out. Sometimes she made him dinner. Sometimes she slept over and sometimes she was still there when he woke up.

Sometimes he forgot he was not supposed to care about her.

But he did. There were times in a day he waited for her calls, and while he felt like a fucking schoolboy with a crush, it warmed him considerably. He listened when she told him that she kicked her ex-boyfriend out and bought her ice cream afterwards because he knew it had shook her to the bone. He cleaned out a drawer for all the shit she left behind and although it panicked him that this girl was marking her territory, it assured him she was not going to leave like everyone else did.

He walked into her home one morning and found her reading a book. She made a picture: A hundred shades of blue. Blue hair piled atop her head, blue eyes blinking blearily, blue sweater sagging off her little frame, blue socks punctuating the sexiest legs he'd ever seen, blue bed sheet, blue pillowcases, blue duvet, blue walls, blue ceilings, blue lamp. She looked quiet and steady and it threw him. The look of her not running from demons or hiding from responsibility awed him, and it was at that moment that he figured out he was in love with her.

Jesus fucking Christ.

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He told her this one day in the winter.

She didn't look surprised or displeased. There was coffee and breakfast sitting between them in a quiet morning where the snowstorm was too devastating for her to leave for her own home. She was dressed in a long shirt and not much else, and she looked so beautiful it hurt so he finally came out with it.

Red flags went up in her head because oh no here was another man who professed to love her one day, then ruined her the next. It was a constant in all the men who staggered like bulls into her life and leave like the silent wind. But no, this was different. Gray was different. He was hard and permanent like stone and if he left, he'd take the world with him. A slow smile crept on her lips and her whole expression softened. "Thank you." She returned, because she didn't love him, not yet.

And Gray was fine with that. He went back to eating his breakfast, a satisfied grin on his face. He had all the time in the world.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> I'm finally writing after that hiatus. Yay! I graduated college last October 22, and the months leading up to it had been insane. I had no time to write, much less the muse for it so I didn't force anything out. Taking breaks are nice every once in a while. I felt this piece was a bit clumsy, but it's a nice exercise to get back in form.


	2. onsra

**Note**: *Writes angst with the happiest demeanor* I really thought I was done with this. But here is chapter two, and the, um, concluding chapter will be out sometime after the holidays, hopefully. Trigger warnings, mainly depression and alcoholism. Tread softly.

**Also**: Johnnie Walker, Paul John and Peter Scot are alcohol brands. I keep forgetting people don't casually know these bottles of amazing staples of human bravery.

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><p><strong>ii — onsra<strong>

by _mirajens_

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_This is the next chapter for Juvia and Gray; two people who fell in and out of love and learned to pick back up all the pieces and make something new out of it._

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When did they start falling apart and drifting away? When did he stop loving her and start seeing her as an obligation? When did she start pushing away his hands that ached to soothe, when did he come to resent the way she turned her nose up at him? These are the questions that beleaguered Gray, rotting in his head and turning Juvia against him as he watched her poison her body and her mind with it.

Every day she diminished. The luster of her hair dulled and her eyes dimmed. Her smiles, no matter how mocking or fake had disappeared completely. The meager light that shone in her evaded her now. In the ten months they've been together, Juvia transformed into a stranger on the steadfast path of ruining her life. It seemed she was a veteran too hastily pulled out of the warzone, still dogged by trauma and sadness. With every swig she took of the alcohol omnipresent in her grasp, she became more deplorable. Gray didn't know how it got to this point. He didn't know how her depression, once a quiet shadow content with whispering ugly words into her ears had developed into a beast that rode on her back and corrupted her mind. Many days found him wondering if he was the reason, but he was not a stupid boy about to blame himself for things out of his control.

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When silence stretched between them like a black sea, Gray could not help but think back to easier times that were in no way smooth, but certainly less troublesome and heart-breaking. Now, it seemed their time together was stained with misery and routine, only rarely punctured by her weak attempts at pretending nothing was wrong.

He thought back to earlier times, when their love was new and blinding. _Are you happy_? He would always ask because it was important to him that she smiled and she laughed and she meant it. _Yes, Juvia is very happy_, she would respond readily, but lately, when he asked the same useless question, her answers sounded mechanic. Forced. If you asked Gray, Juvia didn't seem happy. She seemed broken and stuck and unwilling to claw her way out of the depression that consumed her like a plague. She turned to the bottle as if it was the only friend she had, and in her drunken stupors, she forgot all about Gray, who was bleeding love for her, and damn if it didn't hurt.

He didn't know how she turned out like this. Juvia refused to tell him the root of her problems no matter how he prodded. Erza said that sometimes, people didn't need a reason to be depressed. He suspected it had to do with her ex-boyfriend. Sometimes Bora still called her, and it always ended with violent tears. Not that Gray could do anything about it. Juvia had explicitly expressed her desire for him to step out of her problems when he'd once interfered. Maybe it was about her father, too. He knew that the older man had contacted Juvia many times, asking the girl to move back home. The pressures of university were there, too, taunting Gray when he saw failed exam papers and warning letters from the dean. Gray didn't know what was going on, but he'd resolved that he'd hold her hand through all of it. Sometimes, talking just didn't help. Juvia was an incredibly private person, to a fault. What Gray would give to even have an inkling to what he could do for her.

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At some point, he decided that love was not enough anymore. The notions of love did not comfort him when he was turned to his side of the bed, listening to and feeling sobs rack Juvia's body and he was helpless because she asked him not to touch her, to leave her alone, _please_. Love did not soothe him when he tried to strike up conversation and was met with suspicion and iciness. Love was not sufficient in placating him when she threw heavy objects and scathing words in exchange of his _I Love Yous_ and_ I Miss Yous_. Love did not fill him with warmth like it used to when Juvia rejected him in favor of Johnnie Walker or Paul John or Peter Scot. No, he couldn't keep hanging on to this punch drunk love gone sour, and he knew he had to leave before she dragged him down with her.

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It seemed that Juvia was beginning to get a sense of Gray's sentiment. The days leading up to the breakup had been exhausting, to say the least. Juvia became clingy as trepidation swallowed whole their couple. She had crying jags when he had to leave for work, holding onto his shirt and begging him not to leave her alone. By the time he got to the door, she was a mess, throwing out accusations of infidelity and damn if Gray didn't want to remind her that he's never left her side until necessary and she pushed him away. When Gray closed the door between them, the sound of the lock clinking into place was followed by a horrible, wet crash of a tequila bottle against the spot he'd just vacated. Even as she begged him to stay, she'd still held on to the poison that he made clear he detested. What did that say about her?

He knew he was under no obligation to stay. While he loved Juvia, he was not set to do nothing and stand for her abuse of his kindness. It was Lucy who told him this as she watched her dear friend look worse each passing day with heartbreak tearing him down and apart. "Love is not supposed to be hard," she told him, her hand gripping his cold ones in a show of comfort that made his eyes sting. "It's supposed to be beautiful, fulfilling and healthy. Love is not supposed to make monsters out of people." This she said while giving her rowdy Natsu a look that contained equal parts of exasperation and fondness. That was what Gray wanted. He wanted happiness with Juvia, not this toxic battle of _You're Wrong_ and _Get The Fuck Away From Me_.

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He came home that same day, already fatigued by the tumultuous thoughts that rattled him so much he skipped class and spent the day voicing his gripes to Lucy and Natsu at the library.

Juvia was on sofa, dressed and groomed that for a moment, Gray could delude himself that there was nothing wrong with her. But she turned to him, tear tracks straining her pale face and that illusion was shattered. He was at her side in an instant. Seeing Juvia cry was not out of the norm these days, but comforting her had become knee-jerk. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?" His hands went to work, stoking her hair and pulling her against his sturdy form until she shoved at him. This was nothing new as well.

"How dare Gray-sama put his hands on Juvia when he's laid them on another woman?" she cried, sitting on the farthest end of the sofa as if being near him repulsed her.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" was his dumbfounded reply.

"Juvia saw Gray-sama with her. With Lucy-san." So she had followed him? The very idea of it made Gray's hands ball into fists. "Does Gray-sama love her? Is she the woman Gray-sama is leaving Juvia for?" Gray could only stare at her, his senses frantically working to dig under all that acidity and find the woman who he fell in love with. His effort was in vain. He only saw a stranger in front of him.

Once upon a time she was a beautiful woman. Happy, carefree and thriving. Plenty flawed, yes, but still radiant. Now she was a shell of human, eyes sunken like lonely craters and limbs bony from continued abuse. She was painful to look at, even as he knew there was still that pretty girl hiding under the mask of a ghost.

The rage he didn't know was in him burned slowly like a gentle fire, growing hotter and meaner with each passing moment. He was angry. So angry that Juvia sabotaged the woman he loved and caused them to resent each other. "She's just a friend and you damn well know that. I don't appreciate you accusing me of things I didn't do." His words were clipped, as if it pained him to speak. And didn't it? Here she was, pointing fingers at him when she was the only one at fault.

His hand went to the back of his neck, rubbing at the short, coarse hair there. Suddenly, the thin thread of his patience broke. "Look, Juvia. This isn't working out. I don't know you anymore, and all you do these days is treat me with contempt. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of feeling like a stranger in this relationship because you never let me in. Not once. It's like you _want_ me to leave you forever." He rose, restlessly pacing. He hadn't planned on telling her this now. He hadn't planned on breaking her heart just yet. But how else do you tell a person that you loved them, but you were sick of them? "I think we should stop seeing each other. I haven't slept properly in weeks, and I can't keep fretting over you every minute we're not together. I need to get my life back on track." He paused, turned to look at her but he didn't dare touch her. That part had passed now, and he didn't have it in himself to be near her, after everything that transpired. "You should, too. It'll be good for you. Maybe you can see your doctor again and pull your grades up. Lisanna would tutor you if you asked. I'll stay at Natsu's for a while. I can call Gajeel so he can help you get your stuff."

She was about to beg him to stay. She was about to beg for another chance, for more time. For his patience, for his faith. Her mouth was open and the words were in her throat, but pride and hurt shoved them down. "Fine," she bit off even as her hands shook and fresh tears prickled at her eyes. "Leave."

He watched her turn away from him, watched her try to hide her tears. He hadn't expected her to shut him away so easily. Fists clenched, back ramrod straight, he pushed off the wall and turned his back on her figuratively and literally. For the second time that day, Gray walked out the door. Just like that, he left. And he made it look like the easiest thing in the world when it wasn't.

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It was more morning than night when Gray ended up smashing his fist repeatedly on Natsu's door, smelling of hard liquor and misery. Natsu took one look at him and muttered a curse before grabbing his best friend by the collar of his shirt and dragging him inside. Lucy came out of the bedroom, hastily belting on a robe as she checked to see who had made the obnoxious knocking on the door. Her eyes roved over Gray, a crumpled mess of limbs and devastation on the beaten leather sofa and she rushed to soothe as she knew her boyfriend would not. "Its okay, it's okay." She repeated like a mantra, pulling Gray's head onto her lap as he wept like she'd never seen him before. Lucy exchanged a hopeless look with Natsu, who stood shocked at the emotion Gray was showing. Lucy's slender fingers carded through black hair to assuage some of the burden.

"I've been drinking all night because it hurts. I left. _I_ left, but I still feel like shit." Gray groaned, his whole body hurting from the night of abuse.

"Oh, Gray," Lucy said in a heartening tone, feeling her heart break for the man who had been a brother to her for the longest time.

Natsu hovered helplessly, uncomfortable at his guest's exasperation. "Shit, man, I'm sorry. You can crash here a few days. Maybe clear your head a bit." Natsu offered, feeling encouraged by Lucy's soft smile.

"I agree. We can sort this out. Don't worry."

Gray didn't move an inch and didn't acknowledge the offer at all. "She didn't ask me to stay. I expected her to. If she did, I would have stayed. I would have tried to fix it. But she told me to fucking leave my own house, and I _did_ because I couldn't stand the look of her. I felt like I was looking at a fucking ghost, and I had to get out." Face pressed against Lucy's lap, Gray's words were barely audible but Natsu and Lucy's desperate hearing helped catch it.

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The days following that passed in a blur, the rustling of wind as it ran by a deafening sound to Gray who was mostly intoxicated when he was not asleep. He missed all the concerned glances Lucy and Natsu exchanged, but they figured they'd let him be. Heartbreak did not go away in a matter of days, and people healed in their own way, their own time.

Losing her was a cancer that ate at him from the inside out, ripping apart his heart and retarding his breathing. It wasn't that he couldn't do it. If he bothered to fix himself up and ignore all the pain, he could go on with his life. Being without her took a lot of getting used to, that was all.

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There was an awful phase of him completely contradicting her in an effort to forget about her. He didn't drink vodka anymore because she loved it. His stash of Lucky Strikes had to be completely overhauled in favor or different (and frankly, inferior) brands because even the familiar orange at the tip on the skinny white stick reminded him too much of seeing it between her plump lips. His houseplants were thrown away when they began to wilt; he refused to care for them like she did. He scowled when her sitcom came on, left the room when someone wore similar perfume and completely refused to acknowledge her existence. When her name came up, his mouth set in a hard line before he excused himself. At some point he snapped at Jellal to shave his hair or at least buy a fucking hat and _fuck you for having blue hair_.

But it became too much of an effort and so Gray went back to miserable resignation. He had to accept that the world had revolved around her for too long that everything reminded him of her now. Because when it all boiled down to it, she needed to be cut off before she infected him again.

He did just that by throwing himself into academics and work. Spare time was spent sleeping if he wasn't in the company of friends. Sometimes odd women came and went, offering a welcome distraction. In a month, he was surviving. In two, he was ambling along. In five, he was numb. His friends still bled apprehension, but they said nothing.

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Soon he stopped expecting the feel of her lips against the back of his neck as he woke. He was beginning to forget her, the way she trailed fingers along the ridges of his back or how she would whisper a sleepy goodnight into his ears just before she melted onto him. She was beginning to fade away, and it felt like a comfort he never knew he would need. Because while the severance of their relationship hurt him deeply (left him crippled and weak), there was something to be said about being free. A huge weight had been lifted from his back, and he was thankful for the reprieve, no matter how lonely it felt.

Still, she was there lingering in his memories like a haze. In the loneliest nights, thoughts of her were loud and disturbing. The memory of her pestered him, but it had become a friend, one he never wanted to completely leave. She was a cyclone, one that had devastated him so much he could not forget her. She was a wound, one that refused to heal and be ignored.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> If there are concerns about this, please don't leave an anonymous comment. I realize this is a delicate plot and I would like to explain my side of it, if ever.


	3. retrouvailles

**Note:** *wheezing noise* um I think I'll explain this mess in my writing blog so u know… go there.

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><p><strong>retrouvailles — iii<strong>

by _mirajens_

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It took a year and a half for them to see each other again.

Mirajane's New Year's Eve party. It was the last year of college, and it was easy to tell because all the guests looked like the typical college senior: disregard for proper fashion, a thirst for alcohol to numb the pain of academia, dead eyes red rimmed and bagged, inability to feel joy. Really, the list went on. For the most part, Gray found it quite amusing being surrounded by his ilk and basking in their mutual hatred for higher education. For one, Mira had doled out a fabulous variety of liquor, if only to provide her company escapism for one night. After all, tis the season to be drunk.

It was a pretty amazing time letting loose. Natsu, the little shit, drew the attention to himself with his plethora of reckless antics. Fucking nerd Gajeel had taken liberties with Mirajane's guitar and crooned some God-awful song that garnered friendly booing. Someone was getting their ass reamed for doing coke in the bathroom. Yeah, it was a hoot that mostly managed to be clean fun.

That was, of course, until blue came into his vision, different from Levy's or Jellal's.

Gray never knew Juvia to be the type who came late to parties, since she went to them so much. If he had known she was invited, he wouldn't have come. But there she was, two hours late, bearing chips good enough to feed three people.

Fate was a funny thing, Gray mused into his cup (filled with questionable mixed liquor that might not have tasted palatable, but did the job well enough of putting a kick in him). A funny thing, but mostly a huge bitch that couldn't be content with having put him through a wringer of a relationship and making moving on nearly impossible. No, it was testing him again by shoving Juvia into his face when he least expected it, the shock of it all a brutal punch to the gut until Gray was fraught for breath and aching in the chest.

For a while, Gray believed himself to be dreaming. Because the sight of Juvia before him was not a whole lot different from the dreams that plagued him from time to time, even after so much time apart. Truly, she was a vision that seemed too good to be true.

For one, she had put on weight. It suited her a great deal: the curves much more pronounced and the subtle muscle that corded around her limbs. Her cheeks had filled out, and they looked inviting. Gray never thought the sight of cheeks would make his heart soar as much as hers did. Her clothes looked new; ironed and vibrant. The pang in his chest reverberated, making thought process difficult. There was a flower behind her ear, and why that had him so fucked up, he didn't know.

Upon futher observation, it was orange juice in her cup. That little bit of information made some emotion roll in his belly, ambiguous but not at all unpleasant.

It took almost an hour of him staring at her (so rude, the way his insistent gaze followed her every move, how his ears strained to pick up on the conversations she was having, checking for anecdotes of how her life has been progressing since he'd walked away, if she was in trouble and was she really as happy as she sounded?) until Juvia's blue eyes finally flashed up to meet his. There was shock in them mirroring his earlier sentiments, a considerable amount and he realized that she'd been unaware of his presence up until now. Just a little bit embarrassed at getting caught staring; he averted his gaze and went back to listening to Natsu talk.

The little charade went on the entire night: this exchange of peeking at the other and looking away before the other noticed. Seeing her was nearly unbearable. The dull ache behind his ribs grew more intense each time his eyes instinctively flickered to her, each time he caught the sound of her laughter that sounded way more genuine now. Gray didn't know how many shots he'd knocked back since she began inspiring seemingly forgotten heartbreak in him again, but he knew he'd had enough if the not so gentle buzz at the back of his head was anything to go by. Lucy laid a careful hand on his arm when she saw him stagger. "Maybe you've had enough to drink." She murmured, taking the disposable shot glass from his weak grasp.

"Yeah, maybe." Gray allowed, still miserable. "Shit."

"Do you want us to take you home, princess bitch? You don't really look good." Natsu said from beside his girl, looking mildly concerned since Gray hardly ever got tanked at parties.

"Hey, fuck off, nut sucker." Gray shot back with a sloppy grin."I can get home on my own. No driving, I swear." He made to bump fists with Natsu and peck Lucy on the cheek, but ended up giving the wrong friends his intended gestures. Lucy accepted his fist bump with a confounded look, Natsu seemed horror-struck when Gray's chapped lips smacked against his own bristly cheeks. "Oops. Take care of my car. 'Night, Luce." Companionably, he gave the blonde a half hug before making for the door.

With a foot already out the threshold, he felt a smaller hand grip the back of his shirt, and he didn't need to look to know it was Juvia.

"May we talk?" came her soft voice.

A wiser man would have said no. A stronger man would have walked away. A better man wouldn't put himself through this again.

He guessed he was none of those things, because he nodded his head, urging her to follow him.

When they left, a wide berth between them and the tension in the air so palpable, they didn't see their friends watch them on bated breath.

.

.

.

Outside the apartment complex, it was pandemonium. In a college city where there were more fraternities, sororities and dorms, the streets were littered with the rowdy students who stayed in for the holidays, driven to alcoholic madness prompted by lonesomeness and stress. The abnormal party-goers and garbage strewn around in consequence served only as some surreal backdrop as Gray and Juvia made their way across, dodging limbs and flying solo cups and the odd feather boa.

His tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth and he looked the epitome of irritation. "Come on," he urged his companion, a light hand on her elbow as he led her forward.

In some semblance of a miracle, they were finally out of the busy part of the city, taking refuge in the park where the festivities didn't reach. As they walked further inside, there was the sound of their shoes crunching against leaves and snow, a metronome of how nothing would pass between them so easily now.

"Stop," she said, halting him with that hand fisted in his shirt again. "Juvia will say what she needs to."

He conceded, turning to look at her (forcing himself to feel nothing, not the itch to run and never look back _again_).

The girl before him drew in a deep breath: the picture of a swimmer getting ready to take a plunge.

"Gray-sama left Juvia when she needed him the most." These were the first words she's said about this in months, no less potent and barbed even after all the time that had passed. His eyes didn't stray from her face, diligently watching the play of sensation on it. The action was oddly nostalgic: Gray observing the expressions and catching the barest flicker of emotions that act on it.

She continued, bitterness and heartache rolling off her in waves, prompting the long bottled-up words she had swallowed back and let boil in her gut. "But Juvia has realized that was the best thing Gray-sama's ever done for her. Juvia learned to love herself and depend on herself. Juvia did so many things without Gray-sama. Juvia made new friends, got Cs instead of Fs and sang in the shower. Juvia joined a therapy group, both for young alcoholics and depression. Juvia has been to see her dad to resolve matters. Even with Bora-san. Juvia has potted herbs in her window and a coffee maker."

Short of breath, she stopped. There was so much she wanted to say, the tiny accomplishments she could brag about because the trivial things didn't seem so hard to do now. Getting up was easier, self care stopped becoming a chore. Her hands didn't shake from withdrawals and she slept solid eights now. Would he be proud? Would he like knowing she pushed herself to betterment with him in mind?

There was no sound between them but for the faint howl of the wind and the staccato from under her ribs.

"But Gray-sama still hurt Juvia. It was all so hard. Juvia did all of that just so she could prove to Gray-sama that she could, and so she could shove it in Gray-sama's face and leave him behind like he did with Juvia. But now that Gray-sama is here, all Juvia wants to do is hug him and never let him go again. Juvia wants to cry, and she hasn't cried in weeks. Gray-sama didn't even say goodbye."

And there it was: the break. The tears came first then the voice cracking in a fashion fit to rob him of speech, making him scramble for the right words to say, the right actions.

(_But he didn't have that in him, didn't have anything but guilt and double-damned regret. So he balled his hands into fists by his side and tried to force some air into his lungs._)

There was the time-old desire to comfort, but after all this time, did he know how? He remembered not doing a good job of it before.

But she wiped away her own tears, pulled herself together (_but the impulse to hold her did not pass anyway_). "Gray-sama needs to know that Juvia has spent a great time without him. She can live without him now. The problem is, Juvia doesn't want to. Juvia misses Gray-sama so much, and it hurts. Right here." She palmed the space above her heart, as if to prove how it smarted. Well-meaning friends told her to be brave and move on from the man who discarded her. But wasn't it braver to love? To fight for that man who instilled a steady heartbeat in her, who inspired a light in the world that seemed so dark? Juvia was a coward, but she knew bravery. She saw it in the mirror everyday as she pulled herself out of her void. She had the courage to love now, and this time, she would do it right.

"Juvia's not asking for a second chance. She doesn't have that right. Juvia just wants to fix things and let Gray-sama know she's sorry. So sorry for putting him through that when he was only so kind." She took his hand in hers, cold from the brief exposure to the brisk winter air. He always forgot his gloves. Even when she would put a pair in the pockets of his jackets or his bags, he would forget to put them on or find some way to lose it. Most times he just didn't bother with them. "Tell Juvia what she can do to fix this, if there is a way." Her eyes were pleading, exuding a jumble of desperation (_please don't walk away, please let me fix this, don't let me sleep tonight with this guilt lodged in my throat_).

A beat passed, then two. Gray didn't know how long he stood there; mind reeling and heart threatening to rupture. Warring in his was fire melting the ice long dormant there, a blessed amnesty. "You talk too much," he finally pointed out, a smile on his lips practically microscopic but it was there, making hope bloom in Juvia's chest.

In an unhurried pace found Juvia drawn into an embrace, startling her initially until she heard his quiet sniffle against her collarbone. He never did like anyone seeing him cry. "I'm not promising anything." He murmured. "I can't rush into things again. I'm not going back to that."

Juvia nodded, hands poised above his back but uncertain if she was allowed to soothe. "Juvia understands. She's not going to ask Gray-sama for more than he can give."

"All right," he relented. Then, again, "All right. Then that's what I want."

The countdown to the New Year was spent in the park, lonely now that people were absent from it. There were no family members to spend the holiday with, no friends to count down with, so all they had was each other, and somehow, even after everything that's transpired between them, it was enough; it was a comfort. The sounds of merriment that rang out from the heart of the city but barely reached to where they sat were muffled and they called out to her envy with honeyed voices. Neither of them had envisioned the strains of the New Year to be reunited with the other, but it felt right with their fingers entwined and their hearts beating together.

It felt right that they were making their own fireworks.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:<strong> Haha idec how shit that was, I'm out of juice for this and I wanted to post this in case I get confined tomorrow. I'm officially done with this story. I know some of you only mean well, but please don't ask for more chapters. I've squeezed out all the sap off this fruit and it's already a happy ending.

Also I'm gonna use my writing blog (sutorausus tumblr) some more now. Yeah i'm gonna use that to post er, the nsfw bec it could get deleted here *sweats* And do prompts and kinkmemes maybe so send them over!


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